Frequent Flyer
by SirenVoice11
Summary: Businessman Blaine Anderson finally learns exactly what is meant by the phrase "Flying the Friendly Skies." One-shot, smutty goodness. On a plane!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, this little nugget of smutty goodness came to me as I was flipping through the channels tonight and happened upon a commercial for the new TV drama "Pan Am," which takes place in the 1960's and follows the glamorous lives of what were then called stewardesses. My sick and twisted brain suddenly birthed this naughtiness. Tell me if I'm wrong, but I haven't seen any airplane Klaine smut on here, but I don't know. I just found this idea totally sexy. And I totally had a sexy male flight attendant once when I was flying from London to Rome on Alitalia. Dark curly hair, chiseled jaw, green eyes, sexy accent...Mmm, yeah that flight was far too short for my liking. But anyway! (Lol!)**

**I hope you enjoy and please review because those make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream. In my skintight jeans. **

**Lastly, next chapter of "You'd Tear This Canvas Skin Apart" ("Canvas" for short), should be up this weekend, the latest the beginning of next week. So yay! I love you all, you naughty little minxes. ;)**

Blaine Anderson sighed as he settled himself into his Business Class cubicle, mentally preparing for the long and torturous flight to Sydney. While he adored the city, he loathed the flight, particularly when he was forced to uphold the image of classy businessman and don a stylish but not necessarily comfortable Zegna suit for the nearly two-day voyage. Loosening his tie some, he sunk down into the cool leather seat a bit more, anxious for take-off so they could reach elevation and he'd be allowed to recline the seat into a bed and sleep into oblivion. He absent-mindedly watched his fellow travelers board and found that each slam of the overhead bins was making his skin crawl. Planes always made him a bit testy.

Blaine was the youngest partner at the firm, a fact that would be a bit more considerable if his father had not bequeathed the company to him upon turning 25 last month. Forbes' Magazine had voted him the "One to Watch" on their list of _The Most Successful Twenty-Somethings_, and it was no secret that his family was one of the richest in the country. When asked what exactly it was that the Andersons' company was responsible for, Blaine always answered that it would be simpler to list off the things that it did not have a hand in. Advertising, sales, law practices, publication… They had offices all over the world, and as the newest member of the executive team, Blaine was required to acquaint himself with each of them, not to mention being expected to make and uphold appearances with their employees and rub elbows with the business elite.

Closing his eyes and leaning against the headrest, Blaine let out a breath, waiting to feel the strangely soothing rumble of the plane's engine as it glided along the Tarmac to the runway. He was thinking about how much he hoped he'd have time to catch a show at the Sydney Opera House during his visit when he was interrupted but a soft but firm "Ahem."

"Excuse me, sir, would you like something to drink?" Blaine looked up and felt his eyes go wide as he found the source of the interruption. The young flight attendant was standing over him holding out a tray of various beverages on one hand, a friendly smile glued to his face. Blaine could not answer coherently as his eyes fought to make sense of the vision before him. He could not have been much older than Blaine, though his face showed less stress lines than his own, giving the man an almost angelic complexion. The juxtaposition of the smoothness of his skin against the ivory color of it made Blaine think of opals, and his eyes… His eyes were of a crystalline blue-green, completely lucid, that glinted down at Blaine happily and he felt his breath hitch. Good lord, this man was stunning.

"Umm, sir?" The flight attendant asked again, his brow scrunching a bit in confusion though he continued to smile at Blaine.

"What? I mean, yes?" Blaine shook his head, clearing his thoughts enough to create some semblance of a coherent response.

"Would you like something to drink?" The attendant repeated, holding the tray out to Blaine. He tore his eyes from the man and glanced at the tray before grabbing a glass of champagne.

"Uh, thank you," Blaine said, allowing himself another glimpse at the attendant. He was absolutely transfixed.

"Of course, sir. My name is Kurt. Let me know if you need anything else," he replied, grinning. He continued to the other passengers, offering them drinks, and Blaine could not help but watch him maneuver gracefully between the seats and feel a pang of jealousy as some struck up small talk with him, making Kurt chuckle. He almost forgot the icy glass of champagne he was holding until drops of condensation began dripping down the flute to his hand and he took a sip, his eyes still watching Kurt as he tipped back the bubbles.

Once Kurt finished the rounds, he disappeared behind a curtain, the captain's voice suddenly echoing in the plane, calling for the attendants to close the doors and prepare for take-off. Blaine fastened his seatbelt and gazed intently at the closed curtain, willing Kurt to come back out. What the hell was going on? Blaine was absolutely fixated on him, the tiny sensible voice in his brain telling him to calm the fuck down and stop being creepy. Gulping down the rest of the champagne, he set the glass down and sighed, forcing his eyes away from the curtain and looking out the small window, watching as the plane slowly taxied to the runway. Bracing his hands on the armrests, he reveled in the few rumbling minutes as the plane built up speed before lifting in the air, higher and higher before straightening out for the illegally long flight.

It was another twenty minutes before the curtain pulled back and Kurt walked out, gathering the empty glasses and replacing them with full ones. Suddenly nervous that he would be caught staring, Blaine grabbed his copy of the current _Wall Street Journal_ and lifted it to block his gradually reddening face, cursing himself for acting like an idiot. He hadn't felt this, well, _aroused_ by someone since sophomore year, when he proceeded to have quite the fiery affair with one of his fraternity's pledges. There was something about Kurt that made Blaine want to touch and kiss him, just so he could watch Kurt's eyes fill and turn dark with lust at each caress. He didn't even know if Kurt was gay, though, and he hated that he had to resort to the stereotype, he suspected he was by the way he had accessorized his uniform with a designer scarf, tied smartly into a type of ascot knot, with the ends tucked into his sweater.

Feeling a presence standing above him, Blaine lowered the newspaper slightly, his eyes immediately falling upon the shimmering blue orbs that were lit up with a friendly smile.

"How's it going, sir? Do you need anything?" Kurt said, and Blaine's eyes shifted to watching his mouth move, his legs parting slightly of their own accord as he noted how full and inviting they looked. He groaned very softly as he felt himself getting half-hard in his trousers and he shifted his hips toward the window, hoping Kurt hadn't noticed.

"A-another champagne, please," Blaine murmured. Kurt nodded and made to turn back down the aisle when Blaine let out a cough, following that with a more-than-little desperate choking sound.

"Is there something else?"

"Blaine. M-my name is Blaine," he said quickly, his face burning with embarrassment. He was rapidly becoming an incoherent mess as Kurt continue to smile, though he was too focused on his blushing to notice the mischievous glint that flashed in Kurt's eyes.

"Well, Blaine, again, if you need anything, _anything at all_, please do not hesitate to ask," Kurt replied with a slight smirk, before turning to retrieve his drink, his hips swaying a bit more conspicuously than before. Blaine's eyes went wide as he watched him, his groan a little louder as he felt his cock at full attention in his pants. _Fuck, this is going to be a really long flight if you don't take care of this, Anderson_, he thought desperately, and, unbelieving of what he was about to do, he unlatched his seatbelt and hurried down the aisle, hand trying to hide the tent in his pants, to the restroom just beyond the curtain, behind which he knew was Kurt. Looking quickly to make sure Kurt wasn't there, he locked himself in the impossibly small lavatory, sitting against the tiny counter. He unlatched his belt and pulled his zipper down, sighing in relief as he palmed himself through his boxer-briefs. Pushing them down just over his hips, he wrapped his hand around his hard cock, letting out a gasp as he began to pump himself, desperate for release. He closed his eyes and pictured the attendant, his designer scarf tied tightly around his wrists and on his knees, his pink lips kissing along the length of his cock before enveloping him in the wet, hot cavern of his mouth. Blaine could not suppress his moan as he licked his hand and began to pump himself faster. He was so close, so close. "_Kurt…"_

_Knock, knock, knock. _

"Hello? Blaine? Are you alright in there?" Kurt called from behind the door, and Blaine stopped, his hand frozen in shock around his cock.

"I…uh, I'm-," Blaine stuttered, mortified. Not only was what he was doing considered illegal, but he knew that if Kurt found out what he was doing, he'd think he was a disgusting pervert. But _oh, God_, he was _so damn close_. Taking less than a second to make his decision, he moved so he was pressed against the wall opposite the door, giving himself a fraction more room, and unlatched it, pushing it a bit so that it bent outwards and opened slightly. Seeing Kurt's fingers curl around the edge of the door, his face burned hot with fear, arousal, and anticipation as he opened it all the way, his eyes immediately falling on Blaine's hard, leaking cock. Blaine winced, inwardly awaiting the verbal tirade that he was sure awaited him before Kurt would contact the Sydney Airport's police, telling them about the pervert he found masturbating in the plane's bathroom, and insisting that he be arrested upon arrival. But instead, Kurt's shocked face was suddenly replaced with a look of pure, wanton lust, and he pushed himself into what little space remained of the cubicle, sliding the door closed and latching it. He surged forward and crashed his mouth over Blaine's, who took a second to register what exactly was happening. He had Kurt's sexy lips on his, that's what was happening. Satisfied that he wasn't still lost in his erotic fantasy, he kissed him back, his mouth moving with Kurt's. He groaned as Kurt's tongue slipped over his, curling to lick behind his top teeth. Blaine cupped a hand at the back of Kurt's head, pulling him closer, when Kurt lifted his lips and made to kiss along Blaine's jaw, down to his jugular, and up the side of his neck, before taking his earlobe between his teeth. Blaine shivered as he felt Kurt's hand slip down his body over his shirt and nearly screamed when he wrapped his hand around his cock.

"Is this because of me?" Kurt whispered naughtily into his ear, his lips still wrapped around the sensitive flesh.

Blaine shuddered before nodding once and letting out a groan.

"I saw how you looked at me, Blaine," Kurt continued, his lips now trailing down to his neck and biting down, his thumb flicking over the slit of his cock. "Do you think I'm sexy, Blaine?"

"Yes…Oh my God, _yes," _Blaine groaned, his head falling back against the wall.

Kurt moaned appreciatively, picking up the speed and tightening the grip of his hand, twisting up from the base of Blaine's cock.

"I think you're sexy, too," he murmured. "I was thinking of doing this to you since you sat down."

Blaine bit his lip in an effort to keep from calling out, sweat beginning to drip down his neck and into his collar. Kurt continued to tug at Blaine's rock-hard cock, his other hand reaching down to grip his balls tightly holding off his orgasm a bit more. Blaine arched his back, desperate for more, more friction, more anything.

"Please," he panted, "please, I want to come. I'm so close."

Capturing Blaine's lips in another searing kiss, Kurt reached behind him to grab a tissue and pumped Blaine's cock one, two, three more times before Blaine groaned loudly and came hard into the tissue. His body quivered with pleasure as he rode out his orgasm, his balls emptying themselves into Kurt's hand.

Letting out a breath, he opened his eyes and stared in shock at Kurt before letting a sleepy, contented smile play across his face.

"Thank you," he gasped, as Kurt cleaned him up and tucked him back into his trousers. Kurt grinned back wickedly.

"We're always here to _serve_," Kurt whispered seductively before unlatching the door and slipping out, returning to his flight attendant duties, leaving Blaine breathless and slightly hard once more.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Due to a surprising and unexpected response to this little one shot, I've decided to indulge you (and myself) by writing another chapter. I really wanted to keep this being hot and sexy, but clearly I am incapable of not adding a touch of romance either. I can't promise that this will be a long story, I'll probably just write another chapter and then I'll perhaps write some spin offs based on this 'verse down the line, as I'm still working on "Canvas" and will be writing the sequel to that once it's finished. Anyway, I hope you like this continuation! Thanks for being amazing, tesori! :) **

In the back of Blaine's mind, he knew that if word broke about him getting a hand job in an airplane bathroom by a sexy male flight attendant, it could potentially ruin his reputation as the face of the young business elite. But damn, Kurt had just blown his mind and that's all he could think about right now. Tucking his shirt back in and smoothing down his hair, he stole a glance in the mirror and willed his blushing cheeks to fade so he could return to his business class cubicle as inconspicuously as possible. Sighing, he slid open the door, and slipped out, before pulling back the curtain slowly. He kept his eyes glued to the red and navy patterned carpet along the aisle, avoiding the suspicious stares of his fellow business class passengers but, more importantly, keeping his eyes away from Kurt, who was chatting with a pretty female attendant near the door of the plane. He was afraid that just one look would send him straight to the bathroom again with his hand dug deep into the front of his trousers.

Reaching his seat, he loosened his tie completely and slipped it off before reclining his chair to be totally horizontal. He loved this particular perk of flying business class. With a groan, he laid down, a sudden wave of exhaustion hitting him. He tried to convince himself that it was because of the lengthy flight but he knew this type of exhaustion. It was the type that came after being brought to a delicious orgasm. He closed his eyes and smiled to himself, still unbelieving that that beautiful man had pressed himself against Blaine's body and made him feel that good. And while most men would be reliving the image of someone's hand on his hard cock, Blaine couldn't help but focus on the feeling of Kurt's lips pressed against his. It was just a kiss, albeit a hot, fiery one, but it didn't mean anything. Kisses happen all the time between strangers, whether drunken or not. Blaine knew that from experience. But there was something about kissing Kurt that had caused something to shift in Blaine's mind. For a moment, Kurt had gone from being someone Blaine wanted to fuck to someone Blaine wanted to make love to. Once Kurt's hand had found his cock, the ability of coherent thought was lost to Blaine, but now in his silence, he could not forget that kiss. With a soft moan, Blaine allowed the exhaustion take over his body, his limbs falling limp and relaxing as he fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

><p>Blaine was awoken abruptly. He snapped his eyes open and made to yell at the bastard who decided to shake his seat harshly when the voice of the captain rang out in the plane's cabin.<p>

"Hi everyone. Just turning on the seatbelt sign again as we're going to be in a bit of rough turbulence for the next fifteen minutes or so. Nothing to worry about, just some nasty clouds, but I ask you return to your seats and buckle up and until we've passed them. Thanks."

With a groan, Blaine pressed the button that transformed his bed back into a seat and wiped his eyes, wincing at the dryness of his contact lenses. Grabbing his regulation-sized bottle of contact solution and glasses case, he lifted himself groggily from the seat and headed towards the bathroom, ignoring the request of the captain. A few of his fellow passengers gave him some not-so-kind looks but he ignored them, slipping into the bathroom once more. Turning on the tap, he splashed some cold water on his face before running his hands through his curls, thankful he hadn't decided to gel them down before leaving that morning. Removing his contacts next, he sighed in comfort as he slipped on his tortoise-shell glasses. The plane continued to rock and Blaine figured it would be a good idea to get back to his seat and perhaps start reading over the accounts for the Sydney office so he'd be familiar with the figures before his important meeting in a few days. Opening the door, he stepped out, just as the most violent of the turbulence hit, causing Blaine to lose his footing and fall over into someone who had just crossed the curtain.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, sir, I-,"

"No, no, please it was my, fau-… Kurt?"

"Aren't you supposed to be in your seat?" Kurt said with a stern voice, though the small smile at seeing Blaine in his glasses and fluffy, defined curls, took away from the force of his words.

Blaine looked up at him, and was surprised to discover that he felt…embarrassed? He was Blaine Anderson, People's Most Eligible Bachelor, the heir to the Anderson fortune, and here he was, unable to find anything to say to the most beautiful man he'd ever seen.

Kurt stood there, his arms crossed along his chest, waiting for Blaine to say something or continue to his seat, when Blaine's mouth was on his, kissing him tenderly. Kurt yelped in surprise and grabbed onto Blaine's shoulders harshly, every moral fiber in his body screaming to push him away, that he could be fired if someone saw. But he couldn't move. Blaine's mouth moved much more gently than their heated kiss in the lavatory and Kurt sighed as he opened his mouth, inviting Blaine to deepen the kiss. He did so slowly, the tip of his tongue barely touching Kurt's as he ran it gently along the curves of Kurt's lips. Blaine's hands framed his face, tilting it a bit to the side before he slipped his tongue into Kurt's mouth, tasting a faint hint of spearmint and something indeterminably sweet, something Blaine decided had to have been purely Kurt.

Kurt felt his legs go weak and pressed up against the wall of the narrow hall, the fear that any of his fellow attendants or a passenger could open the curtain at any minute completely burned away. He clutched at Blaine's shirt, fisting the fabric and moaning softly as Blaine's teeth ran long his bottom lip before tugging softly. He'd never been kissed with so much passion before in his life.

After what could've been two seconds or two lifetimes, Blaine pulled away, his heavy breath ghosting over Kurt's flushed face.

"I'd like to see you again," Blaine whispered, "after we land in Sydney."

Kurt opened his eyes, his heart still pounding deafeningly in his ears, louder than the dull rumble of the plane's engine. He knew what his answer should be. He'd heard and seen enough from his peers to know that relationships forged on airplanes could not last. He was the realistic one, the one that all the girls came to once they found out that the man they had fallen in love with was already married. Yes, giving him a handjob in the bathroom had been wrong, something done in a fit of lust-hazed insanity. He couldn't deny himself that chance when Blaine had been so vulnerable and willing with his pants around his ankles. But now what? _Just tell him you can't_, Kurt thought. _This can't happen._

"Yes," Kurt said, deaf to the protests of his own conscience.


End file.
